


Whole Heart

by dirty_diana



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Canon, Undercover Missions, Undercover as Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25434886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirty_diana/pseuds/dirty_diana
Summary: Dutch and D'avin go undercover.-"I know marriage is different on every planet," D'avin said, "but divorce camp is a little weird, right?"
Relationships: Dutch | Yalena Yardeen/D'avin Jaqobis
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16
Collections: Just Married Exchange 2020





	Whole Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [booknerdguru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/booknerdguru/gifts).



> thanks to l for the beta.

"I know marriage is different on every planet," D'avin said, "but divorce camp is a little w

The cable car inched slowly up the mountainside. D'avin's hand bounced against his knee as he peered through the window, features drawn into a loose scowl. 

They'd left Lucy in the city docking port at sea level. D'avin didn't like being separated from his weapons, or the possibility of having no contact with the ship if the weather at the top of the mountain became too unstable. For now the sky was clear. Sunlight shone off the icy packed snow, making D'avin turn his head to shield his eyes. The cable car continued its steady ascent.

Dutch's hand shot out and covered his hand, stilling it. Her grip was easy, thumb gently stroking the skin.

As light as her touch was, D'avin could still read the covert order in it. _Calm down._

The couple that was sharing the cabin with them glanced in their direction at the movement. The husband smiled politely at them, his gaze lingering on their touching fingers.

D'avin drew back his hand, clearing his throat. "Thank the gods you're finally taking me somewhere nice," he said, raising his voice unnecessarily.

Dutch matched her volume with his without missing a beat. "I'm too busy to take trips. I work hard, honey. Not that you'd understand hard work."

The wife made a small shocked gasp, biting her lip. She looked away from them, training her gaze on the snow-covered peaks beyond the window.

"In any context," Dutch added, even louder.

D'avin pressed his teeth against his tongue, trying not to laugh out loud.

*

EARLIER

When the holophone connected, Johnny was wearing a pair of safety goggles, holding what looked to be a blowtorch. D'avin made a scoffing noise at the sight. 

"Do I even want to know?" he asked, standing in Lucy's galley with his arms crossed over his chest.

Johnny shrugged. "I could tell you, but you probably wouldn't get it."

"Nerd shit." 

"Yup." Johnny ignited the blowtorch once in a short burst for emphasis. He grinned. "What about you? What shady shit are you guys up to?"

"What makes you think we're up to anything?"

Johnny cocked his eyebrows. "It's barely 6 AM in Old Town, which is not Dutch's favourite time of day, so either you guys are up early or very late. Either way it's a weird time to be just checking in on your brother. Which means--" Johnny pointed the blowtorch in Davin's direction, and he stepped back instinctively from the hologram.

"--up to something," D'avin admitted. "Yeah, we're headed undercover for a bounty. We'll probably be out of contact. Didn't want you to worry."

Johnny's face lit up in amusement. "Dutch is taking you undercover? After what happened last time?"

D'avin scowled. "Nothing happened last time."

"Sure, nothing, like Dutch having to rescue you from being trapped in that smuggler's haunted cargo bay."

"It was a little haunted," D'avin agreed, mouth pulling into a wince.

"It's like creepy shit just follows you guys around. Hey, Dutch."

Dutch grunted a sleepy, wordless hello, then buried her face in the cup of coffee D'avin handed her.

"Heard you guys are going undercover," Johnny added, long used to Dutch's morning silences. Dutch simply eyed him from over the rim of her mug.

"Yeah. Looking forward to it," D'avin said.

"And don't damage my ship. Remember, she's just a loaner."

*

"What kind of mission is it?" Over the hologram, Jaq leaned forward, stretching long, skinny limbs. He'd shot up over the last handful of months, something that caught D'avin by surprise every time they spoke. "Is it dangerous? Will I get to go undercover with you when I come visit?"

"We'll see," D'avin said, and Jaq scowled, looking down. "Honestly, the whole thing is probably going to be really boring."

"Are you just saying that so I won't worry?"

"No, you really shouldn't worry. We might be out of contact till it's done, but it's just a regular warrant for a missing person. Your Auntie Dutch and I clear those without breaking a sweat all the time." D'avin studied the hologram, cocking his head as something occurred to him. "Are you…seeing something that would make you worry?"

"No, it's all just snow in here." Jaq gestured to his temple and shrugged. "Are you going to get a cool costume while you're undercover?"

"Dutch is in charge of that part. I think it's just going to be regular clothes." Jaq looked disappointed, and D'avin searched for something else to say. "I did get a new gun holster."

Jaq's expression brightened. "Cool. Mom won't let me have one. She says gentlemen don't carry weapons too big to fit in their pockets."

D'avin winced. "Did she at least tell you to try to only stab people who deserve it?"

"No. I kinda figured that one out by myself."

"Good boy," D'avin said, and Jaq beamed.

Lucy's voice cut in, crisp and even. "We have arrived at our destination. Calculating landing trajectory now."

*

NOW

The bellhop that showed them to their room bowed deeply and said, "May clarity find you here."

D'avin wrinkled his nose as Dutch closed the door, turning back to face him. She began shedding her gloves and heavy coat, tossing them into a pile by the door.

"I know marriage is different on every planet," D'avin said, "but divorce camp is a little weird, right?"

"Not any weirder than the ten-year-contract thing they do on Qresh. Don't know why they do it all the way up here though." Dutch shivered as she circled the ostentatiously large hotel room, taking stock of every item and weakness, a familiar maneuver that D'avin had watched her do a hundred times. She stopped in front of the fireplace, the stone hearth housing a real, crackling fire. "How have they not heard of climate technology?"

D'avin's mouth split into a smile. "I learned fire making in Scouts. Our troop leader used to say that being outside helped you think." He waved a hand at the panoramic view outside their window. "You know, no distractions."

"Sounds awful."

D'avin lifted his shoulders nonchalantly. He stepped towards her, getting close enough to murmur in her ear. "It is true, you know. You never take me anywhere nice."

Dutch raised her eyebrows, the glint of a teasing expression in her eyes. "What about the time I took you to Westhole, and we almost got turned into dust?"

"Hmm. Doesn't count," D'avin said against her mouth, his lips curling upwards as he brushed hers in a brief kiss.

"What about the time we infiltrated a Hullen stronghold?"

D'avin smirked. "Which time?"

"Good point," Dutch said, wrapping her arms around him and letting him kiss her until they were both gasping for air, and trembling laughter against each other's bodies.

Dutch's relaxed mood didn't last long. She extricated herself from his arms with a gentle push, tapping him lightly on the chest. "C'mon, hotshot. Let's get to work."

*

Their first day of undercover work was a bust. D'avin quizzed the staff as delicately as he could, but no one remembered seeing their client eight days earlier, or the young, redheaded husband he'd been traveling with. Dutch broke into the resort records room long after dark, and returned to report she'd connected Lucy to the computer. 

"If one of the other guests is a good kidnap suspect, we'll hear about it," she said. She was glowering at nothing in particular, growing impatient at their lack of progress.

"I'm analysing now," Lucy chipped in.

D'avin sighed. He lay on the wide bed, watching Dutch draw her gun from the dark clothes she'd been wearing and put it aside. "C'mon, Dutch, have you looked out the window? Our clients might think their son must have been kidnapped, but for all we know he just got drunk and fell off the side of the mountain." D'avin made a diving motion with his hands.

"Fell, or was pushed?" Dutch pointed out.

D'avin winced. "You make everything dark."

"You love it." Dutch smiled, a slow look that was mostly in her eyes, before growing serious again. "D'avin, Lucy read us the same data. Bren Truell is the fourth trophy husband to go missing from this place in the last six months. His family doesn't buy that he simply absconded from a bad marriage. And if all these men just fell off the mountain, then someone needs to put in a guard rail."

D'avin considered that slowly, then looked down at himself. "Wait a minute. Am I the trophy husband in this scenario?"

"You bet. Get some sleep." Dutch leaned over the bed, poking D'avin in the hip with gentle fingers. "You've got a long day ahead of you being bait."

*

The resort's main restaurant served meals at large tables, shuffling its patrons into shared seating. At lunch D'avin and Dutch found themselves at a table with an elderly husband and wife, and a pale blond man younger than Dutch, whose husband seemed to be perpetually irritated and red-faced. The thin-haired man glared in every direction, and only seemed to speak if he had a complaint. He was currently in the midst of a long diatribe on proper table etiquette, during which his spouse said nothing, staring dully at his lap.

D'avin's fingers flexed, and he busied them tearing a bread roll to pieces, leaving the shreds on his plate. Beside him Dutch didn't appear to be paying attention, engaged in conversation with the woman beside her, but D'avin knew she caught every movement.

"We've been married thirty-nine years," the woman said, introducing herself as Glenora. Her hair was mostly grey, with thin streaks of black, braided in a swirl of knots. She wore a thick perfume that mainly just smelled expensive. She smiled curiously at them. "What about you two?"

She glanced over at D'avin, who hurriedly said, "Three years?"

At the same time Dutch said, "A year and seven months," then laughed, high and bright, to cover their mistake. "Well, we've been partners for years. But we signed the contracts just last year." Dutch sank easily into the rest of the lie, telling the story of a small but elaborate ceremony they'd supposedly had on their homeworld.

"That sounds lovely," the old lady said, approvingly. "So good that you're here, you know. Relationships take work, and it's good to remember that. We come whenever we can." She smiled at her husband, who smiled in sleepy adoration back at her.

"You must have seen many different couples come through here," Dutch said. She let the hint rest, and didn't interrogate further.

"Oh, many." The old lady threw a dark look at the third couple sharing their table, where the thin-haired man was scornfully lecturing his husband on the topic of the shirt he was wearing. "It's good to see what other people go through. Reminds you that maybe your problems aren't so bad, you know."

*

In the afternoon they were directed to a small room for what was described on their informational PDD as a scheduled couples chat. Their facilitator, Riana, sat in a soft chair upholstered in a blinding yellow, tapping notes on her PDD with long painted nails.

"I don't understand," D'avin said, after the first round of too-personal questions that Dutch handled easily. He eyed the two tumblers of pale, cloudy liquid on the table in front of them. They sat on thin coasters decorated with the resort's logo, a sun coming out from behind clouds. Clarity, D'avin thought. "Is the alcohol supposed to help with the therapy?" 

"It's not alcohol," Riana answered. "It's a very special cocktail of ingredients carefully selected by our chefs and doctors. It's designed to help you achieve a state of honesty. And isn't that what we all need in our lives?"

"Sure thing," D'avin said, mild and agreeable as he frowned at the drink.

"It's delicious," Dutch added, though she had barely touched her own glass.

Riana smiled from behind her glasses. "So, David. Tell me why you're here."

"We're simply hoping to strengthen our relationship--" Dutch began.

Quickly, Riana threw her a look of rebuke. "I'd like to hear from David."

"Uh." D'avin lifted the glass in front of him, taking a long draft to cover his unease. It was sweet, and burned at the back of his throat. "It's like my wife said. We'd like things to be stronger. As strong as possible, I guess. Like a good chair."

"That's a good metaphor," Riana said approvingly. "What kind of things would you like to strengthen it against? Be honest," she added as D'avin hesitated. "Honesty brings clarity."

"Okay, well. When she takes a shower, she uses up all the water in the tank. All the time. It's not very considerate."

Riana nodded, and tapped a note. "What else?"

"Sometimes she and my brother get together and make fun of my hair?" An uncertain question mark slipped into D'avin's voice. He took another sip of the drink.

"How do you feel about that?"

"I think Johnny shouldn't make fun of anyone's hair until he learns how to shave. Oh," D'avin said, as Riana narrowed her eyes at him. "You mean how do I feel, feel." He tapped his chest with his hand, over his heart.

"Yes."

D'avin shrugged, thinking it over. "It's okay? I know Johnny and Du-Dulcie knew each other long before I got here."

Dutch was frowning at him. "You've known Johnny since he was born."

"Well, I didn't really like him at that point," D'avin muttered. No one laughed.

He took another gulp, draining the glass, and glanced at Riana to judge if their story was holding up. She'd leaned forward, nodding eagerly.

"Yes, very good. What else frustrates you?"

D'avin took a final sip, then squinted in surprise at his empty glass. His head felt pleasantly light. "She hides the good snacks," he said.

Riana only just managed to hold back a sigh. "Anything else?"

*

They must have been in a firefight, because Lucy was shaking. D'avin turned down a hallway, and felt Dutch pulling at his collar.

"Our room is this way."

"Oh." D'avin turned to follow Dutch, frowning. He wasn't on board Lucy. He was still in the resort, and his head was swimming. He tried to focus on Dutch as she walked ahead of him. "I think I've been poisoned," D'avin said. The syllables made sense in his head, but sounded jumbled coming out of his mouth.

"I scanned the drink and sent the readings to Lucy," Dutch said, rolling her eyes. She pressed her palm against their room door, shooing D'avin inside as it opened. "You're not poisoned. You're just high as fuck."

"Oh." They were on a mission, D'avin remembered. Lucy was orbiting high above them. Dutch was in front of him, hair falling into her eyes as she propped him up. She was so beautiful, D'avin thought.

Dutch snorted.

"Was that out loud?" D'avin asked.

"Yep. You also told Riana you hate bananas."

"I do hate bananas. The texture is weird." He stumbled backwards. "What else did Lucy say?"

"She ran the resort guests against the descriptions of the men who have disappeared. Came up with a list. Guess who's on it?"

"That kid from lunch," D'avin said immediately. "Yvar."

"Good guess." Dutch pushed D'avin gently, and he fell back onto the bed with a pleasing smack, bouncing a little against the mattress.

"If the criteria is trophy husband, those dimples probably fit." D'avin tried to shrug. His shoulders felt heavy. 

"Were you looking at Yvar's dimples?" Dutch asked, sounding amused. The bed shifted with her weight as she moved.

"Maybe a little. Can I punch his dumb husband in his dumb face?"

"After we're done with the job," Dutch said soothingly. Now her voice sounded muffled. D'avin lifted his head. Dutch had knelt at the foot of the bed, where she was tugging off his boots. "We'll punch him together."

"Promise?"

"Absolutely." There was one thud, and then a second as D'avin's boots fell onto the floor. Dutch stood, shuffling as she slipped out of the tidy flat shoes she'd been wearing, then she shuffled onto the bed with him. She rested her head on his chest. D'avin ran a hand through her soft hair, staring up at the ceiling. The room was still whirling, and D'avin closed his eyes. 

"I didn't mean all that stuff. You know that, right?"

"You meant it," Dutch said. Her warm breath whistled across his collarbone.

"Yeah, I guess. But not in a divorce camp way."

"I know. I'm sorry I ate all your protein cake things."

"I can get more." The conversation lapsed. Dutch curled her body against him, breathing steadily. D'avin thought of something else. "Why'd you say that, at lunch? About us being married eighteen months?"

"Why'd you say three years?" Dutch shot back.

"I don't know? Just a random number."

"Hmm. Me too."

D'avin opened one eye to squint at the top of her head, still cradled on his rising and falling chest. "Huh," he said, then yawned widely.

Dutch dropped a kiss on his jaw. "I'm going to do some scouting. You think you can manage to not fall out of bed while I'm gone?"

D'avin reached out to pull her back, but she moved like a snake out of his reach. "I'll come with you," he said, then yawned again. With each quiet step of her bare feet, Dutch's laughter drifted further away.

*

"D'avin? D'avin?" Lucy's voice in his ear woke him up. "Are you awake?"

D'avin groaned as he opened his eyes. "I am now. What's going on?"

"I have scanned the resort building, as Dutch requested," Lucy informed him.

"And?" he prompted.

"And the building exterior is not consistent with my scans. Or municipal records."

D'avin rubbed the back of his head, where a small headache was beginning to grow now that the strange cocktail was wearing off. He wished Johnny was around, to translate Lucy into people the way he always had. "In what way?"

"There are additional rooms which appear to be built into the mountain."

"Great. Send a map to our PDDs."

"I cannot, as I have not completed a full scan. Ground pollution is interfering with my scanners. This task would be easier to achieve from an orbital position."

"Oh." D'avin grunted as he eased himself to a sitting position, beginning to groggily climb off the bed. "You're looking for Dutch to weigh in on this orbit plan? Is she not answering her comms?" Now that D'avin was fully awake, he could hear the sound of running water coming from behind the room's closed bathroom door.

"No, she is not. You are. Why don't you weigh in on the plan?"

D'avin rubbed his eyes, blinking in surprise. "Lucy. Are you asking me what I think?"

"I am attempting to," the ship responded primly.

"Right, okay. Yeah, sounds great. Go do your thing."

"Very well. Preparing for liftoff," Lucy responded.

The sun had gone down while D'avin had been asleep, and the room was growing dark. In the dim light of the rising moon, D'avin could make out tiny snowflakes beginning to drift towards the ground. 

"Oh, and Lucy? Better hurry."

*

The dress Dutch wore to dinner was a deep wine red, cut high enough on one side to expose a graceful thigh. D'avin found his gaze lingering as the elevator climbed up towards the restaurant.

"I thought I was the bait," D'avin said.

Dutch turned to face him, dragging her fingers across the smooth, shimmery fabric of a shirt that, D'avin supposed, made him look appropriately kept. "Depends what I'm fishing for."

"Never know what you might catch," D'avin agreed. He bent his head, his mouth drifting close to the line of her red lips. She was wearing perfume, something that smelled of flowering Leithian trees.

The elevator came to a stop, and Dutch separated from him in one smooth, unruffled motion. "Watch your eyes. We're supposed to be on the verge of a messy divorce."

"You like it when I look at you," D'avin said, low and very quietly.

That brought the ghost of a smile to Dutch's face, one that she tried to hide. "Maybe," she said, just as soft.

"Close doors," D'avin told the elevator. The doors slid noiselessly shut, leaving the two of them alone in the small space. Dutch looked at him inquisitively. 

"What are you up to?"

"Looking at you," D'avin said. He slid one hand over the thin, slippery fabric of her dress, standing close enough to hear the way her breath quickened.

*

Somehow, Dutch had wrangled an invitation for them to eat at the centre table. It was the prime spot in the corner of the restaurant, where the view out of the window was only the darkening sky and a precipitous drop down the slope. Gathering snowflakes had begun to stick to the glass. Dutch had seated herself next to the owner. He was a rotund man who laughed every time he spoke, showing smile lines between thick blond eyebrows. He was far too jokey for a man who probably ran some kind of kidnapping scheme, D'avin thought, and worse still, most of his jokes were terrible. Dutch laughed anyway, artfully leaning in as if to listen more closely.

"What inspired you to create this philosophy?" Dutch was asking. D'avin tuned out the rest of the conversation, ignoring the long looks he was getting from the listlessly drunk wife seated at his other side.

"So," she said, resting a too-friendly hand on his forearm. She gestured to Dutch's conversation partner. "Do you all actually believe this shit?" 

D'avin shrugged.

*

"I never want to hear the word clarity again," Dutch complained when the long dinner was finally finished. She gave the elevator display an impatient look. "Or commitment, or communication, or really any words that start with C."

A couple passed them in the hall, pausing their bickering long enough to shoot Dutch and D'avin a curious stare. D'avin quickly pulled Dutch to one side with a hand on her arm.

"And another thing," he said loudly, setting his face in a glare until the couple had passed. "No leads?" he whispered, his expression relaxing.

"Nothing," Dutch said, sounding frustrated. "Which you'd know if you'd been paying attention. Are you getting bored?"

"Maybe a little," D'avin admitted.

"What happened to you never take me anywhere?" Dutch adopted a low tone in imitation, and D'avin chuckled.

"I take it back. Let's leave the rest and relaxation shit to Johnny." 

Dutch sighed. "Yeah, all right. Let's try and find you some action. Lucy? Any luck with that map?"

The comms were silent.

"Snow's still coming down," D'avin reminded her.

"Guess we'll have to search this place the old-fashioned way."

"How do we do that without Lucy's door unlocking magic tricks?" D'avin wiggled his fingers vaguely.

"Easy." Dutch reached into the tight line of her dress, and pulled out an unfamiliar PDD.

D'avin's face lit up. "Did you take that off Mister Boring Face without him noticing?"

"Sure did."

"That is so sexy."

Dutch grinned. "Come on, handsome. Let's go sneak around."

*

At breakfast they returned where the evening had started, to the resort's large dining room. The snow was still coming down in thick white clumps. Lucy remained unreachable.

Dutch was served a large cup of coffee, and she stared into it with baleful, heavy-lidded eyes. Her spoon clinked the edges of the cup.

"You look like you were up all night," D'avin whispered to her, his hand falling onto her lower back as if he could soak up some of the tension she was radiating.

Dutch scowled. "I was up all night, with nothing to show for it. Why are you so chipper?"

"I guess the program is working for you two, huh? You sure look like you found some clarity last night." One of their table partners spoke, leering as she leaned forward, making her partner giggle.

"Aimee!" she scolded her wife.

"Sure," D'avin said. "We reached clarity, all right. More than once."

Dutch kicked his ankle under the table in response to the lie, with gentle, unerring accuracy. "Don't be cocky."

"I'm just going to leave that one," D'avin answered, making the pair of wives giggle again.

A shadow fell across the table, and a chair scraped angrily across the floor as one of the two remaining seats was filled. D'avin frowned, as a familiar face dropped heavily into the chair. The other chair remained empty.

It was their lunch partner from the day before, with his dimpled partner nowhere to be seen.

D'avin could feel the moment when Dutch clocked the same thing, coming instantly alert beside him.

"Good morning. Where's your husband gotten to?" she asked, in a tone anyone else might have mistaken for only a polite, passing interest.

The man scowled. "How should I know? Yvar told me he'd meet me after a dip in the pool. Probably forgot, just like he always does."

D'avin was unprepared for the burst of rage that coloured his vision. He was on his feet before he'd thought the movement through. Dutch's hand was a restraining touch on his arm, as she stood too.

"Look--" D'avin began.

"We actually forgot something. In our rooms," Dutch said, remaining polite and in character as beside her, D'avin bit his lip to stifle his rage.

"Sure you did." Aimee looked amused. "Left some more clarity back there, I guess."

*

Dutch managed to drag D'avin all the way back to their room before his temper burst.

"Fuck." D'avin paced from the door to the window and back again.

"I know," Dutch said.

"Another one, Dutch," D'avin said, then flinched at the pained expression on Dutch's face. "I'm not blaming you. I just wish we knew what the fuck was going on." 

"I know. But look, this means we came at the right time. We can track down where Dimples went and find our warrant at the same time."

"Track him down how? We've searched everywhere. No husbands, no bodies, no leads." 

"We haven't searched everywhere," Dutch said. D'avin followed her gaze out of the window to the side of the mountain, where snow was still coming down.

D'avin stared at her. "You think he's out there."

"Only one way to find out," Dutch said, and then D'avin's vision was obscured into a blur as something soft and heavy hit him in the face. He peeled the item away to stare at it. It was his cold weather suit, empty sleeves dangling towards the floor. 

"You said you liked the outdoors," Dutch added. "Gear up."

*

There were lines in the snow leading away from the buildings and towards the summit.

"Sled tracks," D'avin declared as he knelt for a closer look, his movement disturbing a cloud of snow. They were beginning to fade, covered over by fresh precipitation.

Dutch squinted at the tracks. "You sure?"

"It's a direction, and the only one we've got." D'avin dragged his hand through the marks, remembering the disinterested husband that had sat across from him at the breakfast table. "If I was missing, you'd actually notice and come search for me, right?"

"And shoot everyone who got in my way? Absolutely."

D'avin nodded. "Yeah. Me too."

"That's what I count on," Dutch said. "Every warrant." She sighed, eyeing the tracks with evident distrust. "We're going to need our own sled."

D'avin thought back to the screen in their room that had displayed an endless list of indoor amusements and outdoor activities. Including, he remembered, motorised sled trips to explore the scenic mountainside. He stood, shivering as he brushed the show from his knees. "I know where we can find one."

*

The path came to an abrupt end twenty minutes later. D'avin decelerated the snowmobile just as they came face to face with the cliff wall. Dutch leapt off the back of the vehicle, drawing her gun and aiming it at the rock face that marked the end of the tracked path. 

"Whoa, what--"

The air shimmered as a hologram flickered and deactivated, exposing a dull metal door.

D'avin swung his legs from the snowmobile and leapt to the ground. He watched as Dutch fired again, this time at the door latch. "If this is yet another wine cellar, I'm going to be really mad," he said.

He followed Dutch over the threshold, reaching for the flashlight strapped to his belt, and blinked in surprise as he loosed his grip on the dangling torch. The light beyond the door was just as bright as the day had been on the other side. The cave was only halfway enclosed. Cloudy daylight shimmered through what D'avin guessed was a forcefield, with another hologram guarding the other side.

Familiar markings on the floor stretched across the whole cavern.

"Not a wine cellar," Dutch said.

"No," D'avin said. He studied the marked floor. "Landing pad. "Think they're already gone?"

"They can't be, not in this weather. Nothing's landing till it stops." Dutch crossed to what looked like a control panel, two levels of lights and knobs that rose out of the floor. Dutch pulled off one of her gloves, and carefully ran her fingers over the controls. Nothing happened.

"Try shooting it again?" D'avin suggested.

Dutch snorted. "That only works on old doors and humans."

"I kind of wish Johnny were here."

"Yeah," Dutch said, soft and distracted. "Me too." Her hand hovered over switches on the end of the panel, each numbered one through six. She studied them, then looked back at D'avin.

He shrugged. "Looks important."

Dutch flipped the first switch. D'avin held his breath. The floor began to vibrate. D'avin jumped aside, as the vent he was standing on began to open. A tall, rounded metal object began to rise up through the floor.

"Is that--" D'avin began.

"A damned stasis pod!" Dutch shouted. She flicked the rest of the switches in rapid succession, making the room tremble again as the floor split again. Five new pods rose to join the first.

D'avin stared at the slumbering face that was visible through the thick glass. It was a male, his eyes closed. He was still living, as far as D'avin could make out from the stasis pod's display. "It's not our warrant. Or Dimples," he concluded. "I have no idea who this guy is. Or this one." He looked at the next pod, occupied by a tawny, muscled man who was as young as the first.

"They're both over here," Dutch called from where she was standing beside the last pods. Her voice flooded with a palpable relief. "Bren Truell's here, D'av. We found him."

"I knew you would," D'avin said, but Dutch didn't seem to be listening. She was clawing at the control panel. "Shit. How do we get them out without hurting them?"

"I watched Zeph do this once," D'avin said. He stared at the panel, trying to summon the memory. 

"Yeah? I've watched her Leithian square dance. Doesn't mean I know how." 

"Just be quiet," D'avin said. He pressed a series of buttons. 

The pod beeped. "Disengaging sleep mode," it announced. D'avin watched with his breath held, until the occupant nearly fell into his arms as the pod cracked open.

"Whoa. Hey. You're okay."

The man coughed, his eyes unfocused.

The final pod took the longest to open. "Process incomplete," the pod complained.

D'avin held his breath. Eventually the hydraulics whined, and Yvar stumbled out of the pod and into D'avin's steadying grip.

"Where..." he began, then didn't seem to have breath to finish.

Behind him, D'avin could hear Dutch trying to calm the rest of the men. Unsuccessfully, if the growing impatience in her tone was any indication.

"Hey!" D'avin said loudly. "We don't have time for this. We need to get out of this creepy stasis lair before it's too--"

There was a rustle and a click as Dutch drew her gun. D'avin followed suit without knowing what he was aiming at, whirling in the direction of Dutch's muzzle.

"I had a bad feeling about you two," the newcomer said.

"Shit," D'avin said in recognition.

Yvar gasped, as he too recognised the woman who had entered. "You were at lunch yesterday," he said, then coughed. "You told us about your grandchildren."

Glenora's eyes glinted, and D'avin recognised her smothering perfume. Incongruously she was carrying a rifle, aiming it squarely at the group of men standing beside Dutch. "Yes. You told us about your dog. I could tell you were a perfect specimen. You, on the other hand." Her mouth curled derisively as she looked at D'avin. "A terrible candidate. You look at your wife with far too much emotion. No one would believe you'd run away." She gestured with her rifle. "Drop your weapons."

Dutch and D'avin made no move to comply. Dutch shifted slightly to the left as soon as Glenora's eyes moved away from her, and slightly closer to the old woman. D'avin clocked the motion, and began to talk, drawing the old woman's attention.

"You can't kill us," he said. "We're RAC agents." 

The old woman made an irritated noise. "Gods. Of course you are. But that means you've got no business with me, I expect. You can't have a warrant for all of them."

She gestured at the husbands. D'avin was still, expression unyielding. 

"I always thought Killjoys didn't take sides." Glenora said. She spoke so slowly aa to sound vaguely disinterested, still holding onto her rifle with her fingers across the trigger.

"That was the old RAC," D'avin said.

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter if your fellow agents come looking for you, though, does it? By the time they get here you'll be dead.

"Then what? These guys just walk back into their pods, so you can ship them off to your sex ring?"

"Sex--" the woman repeated. Her mouth wrinkled. "That's disgusting."

"You're a scientist," Dutch said. D'avin looked over at her in surprise, and Dutch shrugged. She'd made up about half the distance between her and the old woman, and now was nonchalantly frozen in place to speak. "She mentioned it at lunch. You wouldn't be doing uncontrolled human experiments or anything, would you?"

"Science requires sacrifices," the old woman said, with steel in her voice.

"Not by you, I notice," D'avin said, careful not to let his gaze linger on Dutch too long. He knew her, and knew from experience how fast she could move. She only needed a few more steps.

"I--" the old woman began, and then a few things happened at once. Dutch struck as D'avin shouted a warning, and all six men scattered out of the path of the wildly firing gun. Dutch wrestled the weapon from the woman's grasp without much trouble, knocking her to the ground. The woman looked up at the ceiling high above them, and called out something in a language D'avin didn't understand.

Yvar yelped, clutching for a grip on the pod he'd just emerged from, as an unnatural gust threw D'avin across the floor. He lost hold of his gun. He fought to regain his balance as the room flew by him, and then he was tumbling down, surrounded by nothing but blinding white.

*

It had stopped snowing, D'avin noticed when he woke up. The second thing he noticed was that Dutch was on top of him, saying his name over and over with a very un-Dutch-like edge of panic. All D'avin could see was Dutch's face above him, and the snow. It was everywhere, inside his boots and jacket, melting into frosty water as it made contact with his skin.

"I'm here," D'avin managed. Dutch blew out a breath in relief. 

"Shit. It took me so long to climb down here, and when I found you you were out. I thought--" she didn't finish.

Still dazed, it took D'avin a moment to follow what she'd said. "Wait, you climbed down? You didn't fall?"

Dutch shrugged. "Some parts may have been falling."

D'avin groaned. He looked up, and could make out the platform in the distance, high above them. The smooth, snowy slope seemed a nearly impossible ascent from this angle. "Dutch," he said, gently chastising.

"I know. I may not have thought things all the way through," Dutch admitted. "But there's two of us now, that means more body heat, right?"

D'avin hadn't realised he was shivering. He grabbed hold of her body as she rested against his. "Give the lady a Scout badge."

"I took care of our mad scientist, then I sent the husbands back to the main building to get help," she said. "The weather is clearing up. Lucy will be in touch any moment now. We just need to ride it out for a short while."

D'avin looked at the sky, still a muted grey. "Unless it starts snowing again."

"Don't. You're usually the optimistic one."

"Johnny's the optimistic one," D'avin answered. He grit his chattering teeth, trying to stop the sound, then thought of something else. "What knocked me out?"

Dutch made a sour face. "Some kind of giant snow blower."

D'avin groaned. He'd fallen far enough that he was pretty sure he should be in pain all over, but most of what he felt was cold. "Great. Please don't tell Johnny I got blown to death."

"You wish," Dutch said, then, "Stop it. You're not dying." 

D'avin didn't want to argue. "Can I ask you a question?" 

Her eyes met his. Her lashes were dotted with snow. "There's nothing else vying for my attention right now." 

"Would you actually want to do this? With me?"

"Freeze to death on the side of a mountain?" Dutch aaked, deadpan. "Hard pass."

"No, get married. I mean. Be married."

"I've been married," Dutch said, her voice suddenly small and as icy as the passing wind.

"That's not really--" D'avin took a breath. The cold seemed to burn his windpipe. "This wouldn't be like that." Wouldn't be one of Khlyen's games, wouldn't end in blood and a runaway escape.

Dutch seemed to hear the promise in it. She tightened her arms around him, and he could feel her shivering in his embrace. Finally, she asked, "You're my partner. All day every day. Does it even matter? If we do it or not."

D'avin was silent.

Dutch sighed a little, but there was a smile in it. "You are an incurable godsdamned romantic, D'avin Jaqobis." 

It wasn't a yes. It wasn't a no. D'avin opened his mouth to say something else, but his first words were drowned out by a ship passing too close overhead.

D'avin grinned. "Lucy. You made it."

"I am here to rescue you," Lucy agreed. A grappling line emerged from the open cargo bay doors as she hovered in a clearing sky. Dutch reached out and grabbed hold, and D'avin wrapped his hands on the line above hers.

*

Aboard Lucy, D'avin changed into dry clothes and waved the medical scanner in front of his body, which pronounced him healthy except for a couple of sprains and a chipped tooth. He could deal with that later, D'avin decided. By the time they returned to the resort, the local authorities had already arrived. They had gathered the stolen husbands into the hotel's small library, where the men sat clustered together by the fire. Dutch flashed her badge, answering questions with as few words as possible.

"RAC agents," the owner complained. "In my place of business. This subterfuge was unnecessary."

"It got the job done," Dutch pointed out. D'avin grinned at her, feeling the rush he felt after every successful mission.

He glanced across the room, where Yvar was leaning into his husband, the two men sobbing together in each other's arms. He shrugged. "Happy ending, I guess. But the job's not done until we take Bren Truell home."

"Sounds like a nice, relaxing ride," Dutch said.

D'avin shuddered. "Ugh."

"I'm sure we can pick up another warrant to occupy us along the way."

"Sounds perfect," D'avin said, as he kissed her. 

*fin.


End file.
